Phil Spector Page #3

You know, it never

escaped me that people

thought,

or were taught to think,

that I was a clown

or freak of some sort

and that my accomplishments

were somehow not to

be admired.

But in their breadth

of number,

the sign of a freak.

But I understand.

It's called "envy."

I believe it's even

mentioned in the Bible.

Extraordinary

accomplishments, Linda,

transforms the grateful

into an audience

and the envious, Linda,

into a mob.

You watch.

See if I'm not right.

It stems from a feeling

of inadequacy

which is a lack

of courage.

Yeah, I understand.

I had it, too, but

I dealt with it

by doing something.

You know?

What was I to do?

Did I tear anybody down?

No.

They were no threat to me.

I was too busy.

It's pretty, eh?

Hmm.

Here you go.

Thank you.

Why do you have

so many guns?

I might need one.

Why would you need

more than one?

I don't know.

How many pairs

of shoes do you

have?

Mmm.

How many feet?

But they're gone.

And I'm not going to

shoot you, so why don't

we sit down?

LINDA:
Mmm. Thank you.

So how do you feel

about guns?

How do you feel

about them?

I can take them

or leave them.

Yeah, but if you

leave them and somebody

pulls one on you,

well, there you are--

Anybody ever pull

a gun on you?

You think I shot

the girl, Linda?

Hmm.

You're smart.

High praise, indeed.

You think I shot

the girl?

Your chauffer

is on record.

"My boss came out.

I think I just

killed somebody."

[Telephone beeps]

Tomorrow's "Times,"

today's "Times,"

you're quoted

as denouncing "the

Hitler-like D.A.

and his storm

trooper henchmen."

Do you let people

screw with you?

That's the white piano.

That's where John wrote

"Imagine."

Lenny, Lenny Bruce,

he would sit here

at the end,

talking about

the fourth

amendment.

That's how nuts

they had him at the end.

Shooting smack,

talking about the

commerce clause.

Wisest man

I ever met.

There's John,

John Lennon, clubbed up

with his wife at

the Dakota, prior to which

he was living in 2 1/2

rooms in the East Village,

head shaved,

hadn't bathed in

a year and a half.

This genius.

What's this?

Thank you, Vernon.

PHIL:
Do we know him?

As your attorney,

I must counsel you not,

whatever the

provocation, not

to talk to anyone.

They're indicting me

for murder.

All right, sorry.

"You--You Lost That

Loving Feeling".

What was it?

Are you kidding me?

What was it?

It was--it was the

greatest song ever released.

I sold over 2.5

million copies.

You say the Jews

invented the music

business.

The Jews didn't invent

the music business.

I invented

the music business.

7th Avenue, New York,

there's a statue,

a little old

Jewish guy, yarmulke,

bent over

a sewing machine.

He's that guy who invented

ready to wear.

I invented

the music business.

Where's the statue of me?

Where's the

Presidential Medal?

Sidney Poitier broke

the color barrier?

Are you kidding me?

He was playing Superman.

You want to know

who he was?

He was an uptight

frightened white guy's

version

of a black man.

I put the Ronettes

in their home.

I put black America

in the white home.

The first time you got

felt up, the first time

you got somebody's

hand on you--guess what.

You were listening

to one of my songs.

Did you kill

that girl?

I thought attorneys

never ask that question.

I'm the Christmas help.

I'm going home.

Ah.

"I think I just

killed somebody."

My chauffeur

at the time barely

spoke English.

I came out, having

seen what I saw,

and I said, "I think

I should call somebody."

Is that true,

Philip?

That's what my mother

used to call me.

Did you shoot her?

Lana Clarkson?

Listen. Listen.

Come.

Let me tell you about

Lana Clarkson.

All her life,

all she wanted

was this thing.

It was a drug.

She thought it was

called "fame,"

and to put here

in here, in Hollywood,

with this drug all around,

why don't you put

a diabetic in

a chocolate shop?

Why don't you hire

a recovering coke-head

to work in a meth lab?

Did Hollywood kill Marilyn?

She killed herself

with help from

an unfulfillable longing.

Or maybe she just got

drunk and lost count

of the pills.

Did you ever do that?

Lana Clarkson, at her death,

had more prescription

pharmaceuticals in her

than Walgreen's.

No, no.

The toxicology screens

showed she had only--

Bullshit. Bullshit!

I looked in her eyes!

She had the equivalent

of two Vicodin

and some antihistamine.

Come on,

the prosecution--

do you think I

don't know a hophead

when I see one?

.14.

All right, that's it.

She was gone.

Please.

Please.

I can't go on

about that stuff.

I'm done.

Gonna wear that

cross tomorrow?

It's a Mayan artifact.

I have a question, Linda.

If Jesus was so big,

why did they kill him?

Because he was

the son of God.

No!

Because he was still

the son of God.

"Still" is not news.

Somebody is "still"

the greatest beauty, actor,

record producer--

you can't put that

in the paper.

What is news, then?

News is that he likes

little boys,

that he's a thief,

that he cheats

on his wife.

Or in the absence

of any fault,

that he's just

too goddamn big

for his f***ing britches,

which is why

they killed Christ.

See this here?

"You Lost That Loving

Feeling", this was--

this was the best

song ever released.

They told me it was

too long.

Came in at 4 minutes

and 5 seconds.

Nobody could release

a cut over 2 1/2 minutes.

So, what did I do?

I redid the labels.

"Running time 2 minutes,

I didn't change

the length.

I changed the label.

They played it.

It made everybody rich.

It's not, Linda,

that you have to go

against the tide.

Some people--some people,

that's all they can do.

You understand?

Our friend Lawrence--

Greatest general

that ever lived.

End of his life,

he retired,

Took on a false name,

enlisted as a private.

What did he want?

Money, fame?

They made him sick.

What he wanted was what

he had in the desert.

What he wanted

was privacy,

you understand?

They say I'm

standoffish.

I'm not standoffish.

I'm inaccessible.

Always have been.

Is it--is it that

I don't like people?

I don't know.

I never spend

any time with them.

Ah. OK.

Ah, special for you.

Thank you.

Here.

I can't even

do this for you.

My hands are

shaking.

I'm taking these drugs,

neuroleptic drugs.

And a side effect is,

it mimics MS.

so I can't play anymore.

I don't see how they

thought I could have

held a gun.

[Police sirens]

MAN ON RADIO:
Number 42

on the "Rolling Stones" list

of the 500 greatest

songs of all time,

"Be My Baby," 1963,

by Phil Spector.

Spector is arraigned

today in Los Angeles

Superior Court

for the murder of

the actress...

Cut it off,

will you?

Bruce is in the car

with Phil?

That's right.

It says he said,

"We should call somebody."

Yeah, well, that's what

he told me he said.

How do you get that

into the record?

You break the chauffeur

or you put him

on the stand.

Spector?

Mm-hmm.

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